Change of Pace
by MelodyOfSong526
Summary: Short GWTW drabbles, what-ifs, insights, etc.
1. Green

**Don't really know where this came from. I had to finish off my FF notebook, so I did a few quick little FFs (you're free to check them out, though I doubt they're worth reading). Here is one of them. I actually have some drabbles on my iPod that I wrote immediately after I finished reading the novel and seeing the movie. So those will most likely make up the next two chapters.  
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**Reviews are appreciated. It _is _my birthday tomorrow. *cough*  
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**Enjoy!  
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**_Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW._  
**

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Green

Green is the representation of _her_: the she-devil in disguise.

Her eyes are a bright emerald, as are her best frocks and accessories:

The ostentatious ring that glared in brilliancy, sitting upon her fine finger.

The velvet dress she had crafted (he had learned this part recently) when trying to seduce him in jail.

The luxurious wrapper he had bought for her in Paris, what with its expensive gold trimmings.

Green used to be the most alluring color to him. When he had woken up in luscious green meadows during the War, he was always reminded of that vixen.

But now, he looks at green with scorn. It makes him sick to even think that he had fooled himself into loving the woman; worse still, he cannot believe that he fooled himself into believing that she would ever _return _his rapturous feelings.

Then again, perhaps it was not just the outer layers of her figure haunting his mind.

Perhaps he was still—God forbid—jealous of that no-good prince of hers. Perhaps it was the undisguisable envy that drove him away from her.

But he hates to admit defeat, especially to such a blockheaded man. He should be a stronger man, he _is _a stronger man, but cannot help but cringe as he continuously watched her fawn over another. It pierces his heart and soul with longing, but also hatred. How many times had he dreamed that she would one day hold him in a similar embrace, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear? It _should _have been him that she cared for, not that golden-haired fool!

A friend of his was always there for him. For this, he was very grateful.

So now, as she stood before him with an expensive green gown, he feels the warmth flood out of his flesh.

"What do you think, darling?" She poses for him, pointing one foot out a bit so that the dress can offer a better view of some skin.

He knows what she's doing and smiles sadly.

Red is fire, passion, and love. He realizes this very soon after their marriage. These days, he finds that red brings him more warmth and love than green ever did. Yes, he likes red very much.

But it would never fully erase the love he had for green.

He pinched her cheek and told her it looked lovely. She blushed a shade of crimson, and soon excused herself to change back into her afternoon wear.

He sighed.

He really did miss green.

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**Confusion? PM me or review!**


	2. Community Mourning

**The shooting took place in my state.  
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**Because I trust this FF Community, I agree to openly admitting that.  
**

**In case you have no idea what I'm referring to, here's the short story.  
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**A man, 20 years old, went to an elementary school with a gun. He killed 29 people.**

**Children and staff members have died.**

**I don't think I'm done crying over it. In fact, as I write this A/N, there are tears threatening to pour down my face.**

**To cope, I decided to turn to writing another little drabble. This is very rough, so I apologize in advance if there are any grammatical and/or spelling errors.**

**The facts that I am aware of are in this chapter. Whether or not the numbers have changed, I don't know, and to be quite honest, I don't want to see these numbers increasing.  
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**Very short, but I don't think that this needs much figurative elaboration. I don't even think I had the heart to try and "pretty" it up.  
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**Forgive the rambling A/N.  
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**_Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW_  
**

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Community Mourning

It is strange, reading about another parent's sorrowful cries of a lost child, the passion in the monologue similar to a dying person's plea for forgiveness from the Good Lord himself.

Rhett had stopped off at a motel in Atlanta. He had just returned from a business trip in Paris, and hadn't wanted to deal with the stinging heartbreak that his wife would bring him.

He hadn't meant to actually read the paper (they were dull and clichéd, in his opinion), but the front headline caught his eye. It was subtle, but still used too much figurative language that veiled the point of the article.

29 people at the local school had been killed.

20 of them had been young children.

9 of them had been staff members.

The murderer, a man twenty years of age, had somehow appeared at the school. He had a gun with him.

Beyond that, Rhett couldn't comprehend anything else due to the tears blurring his vision. He was—of course—thinking of his precious Bonnie. Losing her as a result of poor parenting had been terribly depressing, but _this_? This was a cruelty, an event in which families blamed themselves even though they could not have ever prevented it.

In vain, he tried to wipe the tears away with his handkerchief. But the salty moisture would not dry up and go away. Instead, visions of the children bathed in their own blood entered his mind, forcing more tears out. Incomprehensible sobs rose out of his vocal chords as the images kept replaying. He couldn't control them, and had soon deemed it impossible to try fighting them. They were unstoppable, flowing down his face in rivulets.

Suddenly, through the torrent of horrible images being conjured, a startling realization hit him in the gut. Perhaps the idea had been flitting about his mind without him fully recognizing it, but now it blared against all the past depressing thoughts.

He had to go home.

Not to his precious Charleston, but home to his wife in that monstrosity of a house.

He would tell her how much he loved her.

He would let her win.

Though the idea of defeat slightly dampened his mood, he packed his belongings with great haste.

Damn the idea of spending the night at Belle's! Damn society and their "traditional" ways! Damn it all!

Because somehow, after reading the article, Rhett Butler wanted to repent.

Granted, he was no saint, but he swore to himself that he would at least have the decency to travel about the town and send his condolences. Perhaps he would persuade Mammy into making dinner for some of the victims' families.

As he walked out of the motel, the cold air hit him with full force. But he didn't care. He was going to make things right. He had to be with his family tonight.

He swears to himself that he will hug his stepchildren extra tight tonight before tucking them into bed.

He swears to himself that he will embrace his wife and confess his love for her.

He swears to himself that things will finally be put into place.

And yet, he still cannot find the courage to leave the paper behind. Perhaps it is the tiny sentimental portion of him, but he cannot help wondering if the tragedy had been a turning point of sorts in his life. How it occurred in the span of just a few minutes, he wasn't sure, but he knew for certain that others needed to know about it.

Especially his family, whom he had been so unkind to in the past. Yes, tonight he will make things right.

But first, he has to find some spare handkerchiefs.


	3. Fire

**Well, this was...unexpected. Felt a bit depressed whilst writing this (you shall see why shortly).**

**Think it's a nice little treat before I upload the next installment of "You Don't Know..." (coming either tonight or tomorrow morning). And I haven't even touched the little Christmas one I'm writing, so I'll try to finish that up ASAP (maybe I'll make it a three-shot?) Downtara is coming along quite nicely, and the next chapter (along with a little extra cast of characters list) has been up for a bit over a week; new installment for that will _hopefully _come in a few weeks.  
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**And the whole reason I gave you that little update on all my GWTW stories up above is due to the fact that school is getting a bit hectic. I'm still writing, but not at a faster rate than before (which saddens me).  
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**I did proof this, but I typed this on my iPod so...please do forgive any spelling/grammatical errors.  
**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW._  
**

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Fire

Rhett Butler is a very incompetent man at times such as these.

He does not understand his desires to drown himself in sorrows, nor can he comprehend his readiness to leave all life behind for eternity.

Perhaps it is because there is only one place which he trusts to help him lose all judgement.

It is a meal of pleasure.

It satisfies his hunger more than any grand feast ever could.

Cigars: the appetizer.

Alcohol: the entree.

Love-making: the dessert.

How wonderfully convenient it all works out.

A drink of passion and lust combined in one.

A sweet aroma of sweat and rouge.

Tenderness and soft caresses.

A private room.

The large, feather bed awaiting visitors...

He should not be here.

He _should _be at home with his beautiful wife.

He _should_ be tucking Bonnie into bed.

He _should _be reading to his two stepchildren before bedtime.

He should _not _have downed so much damn whiskey.

He should _not_ have come to this accursed place.

He should _not_ have led the poor creature on.

Yet he cannot stand the thought of leaving.

No, instead, he comes every night.

He doesn't _want_ to come.

He _has_ to come.

A soft hand leads him to the room.

He follows without thinking twice.

They become brief lovers.

However, he doesn't see his dear, sweet friend beneath him.

He sees a fire.

He sees the fire of an Irish temper.

He sees the emerald fire of a familiar pair of fine eyes.

He sees the fire of the finest frocks affixed to the tiniest of waists.

He sees the fire he fell too much in love with at a fiery moment.

The woman beneath him is a tame fire.

His wife is a wild fire.

He prefers the wild fire.

But he cannot spend the night with a fire which does not accept the assistance of kindling.

He must settle for the tame fire.

Rhett Butler is a very incompetent man indeed...

* * *

**Points to anyone who saw the tiny Austen phrase from P&P. ;) That bit was a dedication to you, Dixie (if you're even reading this)! **


	4. Revelations

**I don't have any excuses other than the overwhelming amount of practicing I've been doing to prepare for our concert on Tuesday.  
**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW.**_

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Revelations

Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy—soon to become Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy _Butler_—was worried.

Her palms were clammy as she twisted the emerald engagement ring around the circumference of her finger. In the sunlight, it embellished a remarkable light that cast long, thin rays against the floor. She thought of how perfectly beautiful it appeared to be, yet how it also showed its ostentatious nature. Then, as she remembers receiving the ring, her heart and mind no longer agree.

What in God's name had she gotten herself into?

Her hasty acceptance to Rhett's proposal had unsettled her for quite some time now. She knew herself to be intimidating and fierce, yet somehow, Rhett could always find a way to break down her walls of brick and stone. The mortar which she had used to craft these walls was meant to be resistant to the conniving ways of others. Not a person had been able to inflict the slightest of wounds upon this barrier until Rhett had com along.

The hastiness had mostly been a side affect of Rhett's actions in Aunt Pitty's library, but perhaps-

Oh, how horrifying the idea was! Scarlett inwardly scolded herself for conjuring up the idea, but it had been nagging at her for the past few weeks.

Scarlett had always sought for attention, and always hard the uncanny ability to achieve it when necessary. Even as a child, she had discovered her cleverness and how to manipulate others by a simple trickling tear or a faint flicker of her eyelashes. From the moment she was born, Scarlett had been ambitious and demanding. It was the Irish blood from genereations of O'Haras that carried these characteristics, and as a result had been outwardly revealed during fits of rage.

When she had met Rhett, he had shed away the Southern Belle charms as if they were paper. He had only been fooled once by this demure attitude, but even so, he was not fooled for very long (besides, prison alters men, and it is quite normal for a man to let his guard down ever so slightly during such a terrible time). Nevertheless, he was immune to her falsehoods and sugar-coating, and for a reason she could not explain, this fact rattled Scarlett quite a bit. She did not know how to approach such a manner without the assistance of her infamous Southern Belle qualities.

She sighed. How awfully dreadful it was to wear a third wedding gown! Though the dress was glorifying compared to her prior ones (those of which had been old-fashioned and stiff-fitting), Scarlett did not feel…happy wearing it. During her first two weddings, she had some sort of satisfactory gain awaiting her at the altar. Now, however…There were unexplainable flurries of butterflies flitting about in her stomach. She suddenly wished—for the first time in her twenty years of life—that she had not asked for the corset to be pulled so tightly.

"Miz Scarlett, you's look as pale's a sheet! Did that nasty Cap'n Butler upset mah lamb? 'Cuz if he did, Miz Scarlett-"

"No, Rhett hasn't…Oh, Mammy!" Scarlett sobbed into Mammy's familiar large, warm bosom.

"Oh, hush now, Miz Scarlett. There, there…Mammy's here, chile."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Scarlett?"

She gasped.

"Rhett! What on Earth…You can't be here, Rhett! It's bad luck-"

"Come now, Scarlett. Can't a man see his bride whenever he so chooses?"

She hesitated.

"Scarlett?!"

"Must you come in?"

"Darling, I won't talk to you through this damn door."

She sighed.

"Mammy, would you-"

"Ah's ain't lettin' you see that man befo' your wedding! Poor Miz Ellen oughtta be rollin' in her grave…"

Rhett chuckled.

"I promise I'll be a good boy and keep my distance, Mammy."

Grumbling, Mammy allowed the two to talk (so long as Scarlett returned within ten minutes time). With reluctant fumblings, she undid all of the elegant stays and fitted Scarlett into a modest, emerald-green evening gown. Before Scarlett had left the room, however, Mammy warned her to 'take cautions with Cap'n Butler'. Scarlett's only reply had been a knowing smirk upon her fair features.

_~o~_

The pair took a turn in the hallway before settling to a complete halt in front of a large window.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Scarlett sighed. She couldn't very well tell the man what was truly on her mind.

"I suppose I'm just nervous, Rhett."

"Nervous? My dear, you're not the nervous type."

She scoffed.

"Scarlett, what's really wrong, darling? You shouldn't be antsy about walking down the aisle. This is your third time, after all."

She would have striked him had she not seen the peculiar expression bestowed on his features. A flicker of concern was reflected in his dark, probing orbs. His jaw was slightly clenched despite his playful jest from earlier. A curious tint of paleness had begun to blanch his swarthy skin, making him have the appearance of a timid little boy.

Oh, heavens! It could not be! She was…oh, but she couldn't be! What about Ash-

Suddenly, the realization pummeled her with such force that she let out an involuntary gasp.

Ashley had never loved her.

No, he could not have ever been in love with her, for if he had, he would have confessed it by now. He was the dreadful Romeo derived from all the books he read. Therefore, he would have arranged some sort of rendezvous for the pair of them…

But hadn't done so. Not for Scarlett, at least.

He was truly madly in love with Melanie!

Melly and he were alike. They both preferred to spend a day reading in the library than find wonders of the world outside of their privacy. Both found admirable traits in characters from the books they cherished so much. They were solitary pieces in a game of chess; no person could force a move upon them. Their significant others was the only person in the world who could gently tug them away from the game.

The realization did not twist her heart into a bitter poultice like she had initially suspected. Instead, a sense of relief overcame her. Why, she must have never loved Ashley, then! Oh, how wonderful it felt! For during the process of the revelation, Scarlett had found herself questioning why she had ever fooled herself into loving a man such as Ashley. Had she ever married him, she would have bored herself to death just by listening to his ramblings of nonsensical aspects of the newest novel he was reading. He was a man too absorbed in the pulls of fantasy and dreams. She would never be able to tolerate a man whom did not see the world in the harshest lights of reality. For Scarlett was a strong individual, and the strongest of these people had the ability to peer at the world's cruelties with a calm aura about them.

"Scarlett? Darling, you look quite pale…"

She blinked as Rhett brought her out of her reverie. He looked quite angry, yet still concerned. Were his eyes always so deep and mystifying? Why on Earth was her heart reverberating so?

"Rhett…"

Just before the darkness enveloped her, she came to yet another startling realization. A realization that she had been denying until this very moment.

She was truly in love with Rhett Butler.

_~o~_

A blur of voices closed in around Scarlett as the aroma of smelling salts infiltrated her nostrils.

"Darling? I believe she's waking up…Scarlett? Can you hear me?"

She wanted to nod, but her head felt too light, almost as if it were a feather.

Within a muffled moment, she remembered all of the realizations she had uncovered. Before the darkness decided to claim her once again, she cried out a single word:

"Rhett!"

_~o~_

"Scarlett? Darling, you _are _waking up now, aren't you?"  
Stiffly, she nodded as she awoke for the second time. Though she still felt light-headed, she felt a surge of strength flow through her veins. She would not let herself grow overwhelmed by the emotions that had been revoked earlier.

"Oh, Rhett…"

"Yes, Scarlett?" There was a glint in his eyes—not the usual mocking light that she usually associated with Rhett. This glint was a roaring fire, yet also the calming serenity of a lake in the summer.

And then, suddenly, Scarlett _knew_.

She had always knows that she was not analytical in the slightest, yet even so, a sense of morbid stupidity washed over her. Perhaps she had always known what was going on in front of her. She just never had studied the facts as thoroughly as she should have.

"You love me, don't you, Rhett?"

He tensed.

"My dear…"

The vile man was about to deny it, of course. She had expected just as much. For once, their roles were reversed, and it was _Scarlett_ who could read Rhett like an open book.

"Oh, Rhett! Darling, please-"

" 'Darling' ? I don't ever recall you using any sort of endearment when addressing me, Scarlett."

Oh, how she tempting it was to slap him! But she was much too happy for such a cruel action.

"I love you too, Rhett."

"My dear Scarlett, don't lie to me-"

But he never got a chance to finish his sentence. Because suddenly, without any worries about her already-ruined reputation, Scarlett had thrown herself at Rhett and was kissing him.

"Oh, Scarlett…"

"Hush now. Someone might hear." She giggled slightly at the thought.

"I love you, Scarlett. More than my wretched being cares to admit."

"I love you as well, Rhett."

"What about-"

"Ashley? You were right, as you always are, Rhett. I did not love him. I was merely chasing after a fallen prince."

He caressed her cheek.

"You've matured…I don't know how, dear, but you have. I can tell. Even your wording has altered altogether."

She smiled at him.

"I must go. I do hope you'll still be at the altar, Rhett."

He smirked.

"In that case, _Mrs. Butler_, I should hope that you'll still walk down the aisle."

And with that, the pair finally reached an understanding in their relationship.

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**Some parts I adore, some I loathe. Oh, well...**

**Apologies for:**

**-Lack of updates**

**-Continuous complaints of self-pity in these bloody A/N's**

**-Grammar/Spelling errors**


	5. The Green Bonnet

**YDK...coming as soon as I can write it. But here's nice little filler for the time being.  
**

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW.**_

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The Green Bonnet

The blasted thing chides him, mocking his languid thoughts about _her_. It forces him to contemplate how wonderful she would love wearing such a pretty thing upon her head. Its silken adornments beckon him to the interior of the shop.

Why should he even consider buying the bonnet? Surely it would look suspicious, especially to the clucking hens of the Old Guard. A potential suitor—not to mention a scalawag at that!—bestowing expensive gifts upon a widow? How scandalous!

Though Rhett had never cared about his reputation, he still valued what little air of civility he possessed. Perhaps he would never be a drone like most other Southern gentlemen, but at least he had the gumption to show that he did respect the 'proper rules of society'.

Unbidden, _her _eyes entered his mind. Their voluminous depth, as well as the different tints and shades of green in them haunted him in both dream and reality. How marvelously the bonnet would look on her! He could almost picture the greedy glint in her eyes as they focused in on the gift.

Rhett knew he ought to forget the woman, yet something about her seemed to plant a seed in him. It was a new feeling, and not altogether unappealing. She was a toxin, addictive and different from the other venoms he had consumed before. When he had first laid his eyes on her, she had captured him. Never before had he wanted to succumb to any woman's charm as much as he had wanted to when meeting her. Immediately after making her acquaintance, he instinctively knew that he would do anything and everything to please her.

And—what made the whole ideal worse—was the fact that he, Rhett Butler, fancied himself in love with Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton.

Shaking his head, he walked into the shop to make the purchase.

_~o~_

"Rhett, darling, would you do me a favor?" his wife asked as she stretched. She had just awoken from an afternoon nap.

"It depends, my dear."

Smirking at his snarkiness, Scarlett whisked past him as she searched for her wrapper.

The pair was taking a 'vacation' of sorts. After reconciling a year prior (with much difficulty), everything began to fall back into place rather neatly. Deciding that they wanted to celebrate, Rhett offered to take them on a trip all throughout Europe. To this suggestion, Scarlett had readily agreed, declaring that they would patch things up in no time. Things were still a bit bumpy between them—and most likely always would be—but the two were getting on very nicely.

"Would you take me shopping?" she asked as she brushed her long tresses of hair.

He chuckled and soon took the brush from her. Methodically, he took over the task and replied to her request.

"You have plenty of clothes, jewelry, and other, er…feminine frivolities, darling."

"But this is _Paris_, Rhett! I want to relish it while we're here. Don't you?" She looked up at him earnestly.

"My dear, I've already seen most of the city-"

He sighed as he saw the pout that was about to form on her features.

"Oh, very well, then. But we'll depart at eleven." He held up a hand to ward off her oncoming complaint. "They'll be more people around in the later morning, which I think you'll appreciate. Besides, I should hope for some much-needed sleep. Like it or not, Scarlett, I'm getting rather old."

_~o~_

True to his word, Rhett took Scarlett shopping at precisely eleven o'clock on the dot. Looping her arm through his, she tugged him along the many streets and side-streets of Paris.

"Oh, Rhett! I think I'm in love with Paris!"

Laughing, he stopped her abruptly before they turned down yet another street. He didn't want the two of them to get lost in the city, especially on their vacation.

"Darling, these aren't the shops for you."

"But Rhett-!"

"Come now, Scarlett. Do you really want to stay in the," he looked around and quickly lowered his voice before continuing. "_Cheaper _part of Paris?"

She gasped.

"Oh Rhett! Why didn't you say so!"

He laughed again and, taking her hand, he led her down to the Rue de la Paix.

"Darling, that place sounds familiar. Why is it so?"

He smirked.

"Do you need a new bonnet, Scarlett?"

"Well, I-"

"I believe you do."

Puzzlement adorned her features.

"Rhett, what on earth are you up to?"

He laughed.

"I don't suppose you still have that green bonnet, do you, my pet?"


	6. Homecomings

_It's short, for a reason. It took me 15 minutes to write this on my iPod. Falling asleep 15 minutes after midnight actually wasn't terribly terrible. _

_And yes, I'm following the bandwagon of just leaving the A/N's in italics now. Bold was too...bold.  
_

_If you could, read my other A/N? _

_Disclaimer: I do not own GWTW.  
_

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Homecomings

_Tara._

Oh, what marvelous joy the word brought to Scarlett O'Hara's heart! The syllable like a whisper carried on a slight breeze as it passes through the oak trees. A reminder of childhood days; days filled with wonder and exploration. The red clay of the same color as her namesake. A large, whitewashed house, so beautiful and massive, and a treasure in itself.

But most importantly, Tara spoke of _home_.

So ecstatic was this woman—a woman whom had recently felt it her duty to escape Sherman and return home—that she did not think rather clearly. She had looked forward to seeing the plantation just as it was before the War. She had wanted to return to her old bed chambers and rediscover mementos of her girlhood.

It had never occurred to worry about any potential damage the War could have done on her own home.

So desperate was she to see her Mother and Pa once again, as well as the servants! Never once did she believe that they would not be in good health, or that there was no work to be done. Too optimistic was her outlook, and too rash was her decision to flee Atlanta.

With calloused hands and dirty fingernails, Scarlett O'Hara reflected on just how very foolish she had been.

_~o~_

Though her home is now run by her sister, Scarlett holds her head high as she examines the overall state of the house. The cotton was slowly growing back to its former glory, yet it would take another five years for any enriching product to be produced. The veranda looked tidy and comfortable, as if dusty soldiers had never crowded there. It was, in a sense, an image of perfection.

But within Scarlett, all was horribly wrong. Nothing at Tara would ever be the same, not after the damage of the War. The War had left an imprint upon this fine plantation, as well as numerous others. Men had taken away a family's pride and joy, or even other necessities such as food and money. Traitors had barged onto the property, wishing to buy it. Dreams had been shattered, but also born within the perimeter of the place.

And Scarlett had been victimized by this more than any of the rest of her family.

She watched as Tara crumbled during those days after the War had ended. She saw the beauty seep out of her home, for that was what the War had done. It had changed all people, and robbed all of some fortune or precious possession.

But it was still home. No matter what troubles or tribulations arose, Tara was her constant; her lifeline during her weakest moments.

And for this, she was eternally grateful for its existence.

* * *

_I wanted you all to have some sort of update from me in one of my stories, so I thought, "Eh, why not write a quick little blurb?". I won't be updating for a looooong time. It's summer, I am fully aware of this. But last week, we had a ton of field trips and graduation to deal with. The week before we had at least one test per day. This week, I've been trying to relax and read (mainly Anna Karenina). Today, my mother and I set off to Grand Canyon (and some other national parks). I can stay in touch with you all, but I won't be able to update any stories. Bear with me. I'll try to get something up as soon as we get back._

_Now, as to the actual 'blurb', I felt that this was one of my favorites. There is such a contrast between first impressions and reality. I wanted to try to bring this out a bit in Scarlett's line of thinking. She's grown up at Tara, so naturally she was expecting for it to be exactly as she left it. But as we all know, this wasn't the case. Even at the end, despite what she now knows about Tara, she still has to hold on to that last bit of her childhood in her adult years. This, I think, is probably one of the most underrated concepts of the novel, and I had to rant it out somewhere in someway.  
_

_To be honest, though, I hadn't really thought of this concept until last night. So I cannot claim it was a discovery I made whilst reading the novel.  
_

_And I'm done ranting. Sorry this A/N is a bit long. Yikes. Well, I'm off. Au revoir!_


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